The glasses above were recovered from a well excavated in 1996 and 1997 under
the direction of Dr. Rick Jones, the Indiana State Archaeologist and an adjunct
faculty member here at IUPUI. These excavations were the only
archaeological investigations of Ransom Place prior to the 2000 field season,
and they are among the few African-American archaeological projects conducted in
the region. This year we have been preparing a detailed analysis of the feature, and we can
venture some preliminary interpretations that provide interesting insights into
the everyday life of at
least one Ransom Place household around 1930.

The home that is today numbered 941 North Camp Street was built sometime in the final
quarter of the nineteenth century. A structure was certainly on the lot by
1887, when Sanborn maps show a building at every lot on the east side of North
Camp. All of the householders along this side of the street were recorded
as White by the 1880 census-keeper, but by 1900 the first African-American
families had settled the street, including the Covington family at 941.
The Covingtons appear to have been folks of relatively modest means, but they
were among the first African-American residents and homeowners in the
neighborhood, and their long-term residence at the home over at least 40 years
is quite distinctive in a community that included many highly mobile renters.

The
Covingtons' home appears at the gold arrow in this 1887 Sanborn insurance
map. Camp Street runs along the left (western) side of this
closeup, with 10th street at the top of the map.

This
1898 insurance map shows the home at the arrow. Note that since the
1887 map an addition had been made to the southern side of the home and
the rear.

Over
40 years later, this rather cluttered 1941 map shows "41" Camp Street at the
arrow. All the outbuildings in the back yard had been removed by
this time.

In 1900 the family of Ephraim B.
Covington and his wife Angy was residing in the home at 941 Camp with their niece Mary E.
Brooks. Ephraim and his first wife were both born in Kentucky and married
in 1886. While the 1900 census gave Ephraim's age as 42, census keepers in
1910 and 1920 recorded it as 45 and 58 respectively, so his actual age is
unclear. Apparently Ephraim
remarried between 1900 and 1910, because Ephraim's wife appears in the 1910
census as Amie B., and Ephraim was identified as having been married twice and Amie
once. In 1920 Ephraim appears to have again remarried, this time to Ella, who
was born in Indiana, unlike the first two Kentucky-born wives. In the
1900-1920 censuses, Ephraim is recorded as either a janitor or custodian in an office
building. Regardless of the stigmatization that might be attached to such
manual labor then or now, by 1920 the Covingtons had paid off their mortgage, and in 1900 they were
one of very few African-American families on the block. The 1930 and 1941
Polk's city directories recorded Ephraim Covington at 941 North Camp Street, so
the family's tenure in Ransom Place spanned over 40 years. In 1951 the household of Benjamin W. Cash was in the residence,
suggesting that the Covingtons had moved.

These buttons (left) and a soap
dish (right) were among the goods discarded into the Camp Street well in
the 1930s. (Click on either thumbnail image for larger picture).

In 1996 initial archaeological excavations were conducted in the home's
backyard. Near the end of the field season a circular feature was
identified with a brick deposit on its surface. Subsequent
excavations in 1997 recovered dense refuse deposits from a circa
nine-foot deep well. The excavations recovered over 4,000 objects, of which
two-thirds were classed as building materials (e.g., nearly 700 brick fragments,
over 400 window
glass panes, almost 400 nails, etc). While the fill's volume was dominated by construction
debris, this material
was interspersed with standard household discards that included bottle glass, buttons,
bones, and ceramics. The densest artifact quantities were recovered from
the base of the well, but excavators did not note stratigraphic variations (for
example, color and texture differences) that would be common in a feature that was
filled gradually. The well's contents also do not include more than
a handful of early objects, with the vast majority clearly dating to the
twentieth century and 1920s. Several bottles in the feature's deepest
levels were produced in an automatic bottle machine, a technology introduced in
1920, so all overlaying layers must date to after 1920. Other artifacts in
the well support this dating: the Indiana
Railroad token illustrated below apparently dates to the inter-urban rail
service run from September, 1930 to January, 1941, and the Polk Sanitary Dairy
"alumaseal" closures date to the 1930s. The well itself,
of course, may have been built when the home itself was constructed, but there is no evidence
that it was being slowly filled over the roughly half-century it was apparently
open in the backyard.

Archaeologists who study the recent past
often find quite commonplace objects, but these goods often harbor
unexpected insights into everyday social life. For instance, these three foil
wrappers (top, right) once graced milk bottles from Indianapolis' Polk
Sanitary Dairy. This closure technology known as an "alumaseal"
was used in the 1930s,
prior to the emergence of a cellophane hood system introduced in 1941.
Seals like these were designed primarily to keep domestic pets away from
the contents left on customers' doorsteps. The
top two seals were recovered from the Camp Street well. The third
was donated to us by Stephen Bond, a commercial archaeologist from
Massachusetts who has done research on this and other commercial
dairies.Stephen tells us that
the Polk Dairy
began business in 1910 and continued to serve Indianapolis from their Greenwood
dairy until the 1960s. The Polk Dairy's Greenwood building
was graced by a pair of 52-foot high bottles covered with white-glazed bricks
imported from Brazil, Indiana, but that striking landmark was removed when the buildings were dismantled in the
mid-1960s. The Anthropology Department's secretary
Evelyn Oliver tracked down this local history and also found Mr. Bond; thanks to
both for the help.

What do these wrappers mean?
Archaeologically we try to construct material interpretations that
consider the rich range of things a single object might have symbolized to
any given consumer. Of course, at the most basic functional level
these are simply milk bottle seals, regardless of who consumed them.
But could these apparently mundane objects also harbor a "racialized"
meaning as well?
Gilbert Taylor, the curator of the Crispus Attucks Museum here in
Indianapolis, remembers that once each year Riverside Park--a White-only
segregated city park--admitted African-American guests. African
Americans could enter on this day by bringing milk caps, which probably
included cellophane, paper, or foil closures like those found in the Camp
Street privy. It may simply be chance that we found these closures
in an African-American household, and they may well have only been used to
seal the household's milk bottles. Nevertheless, this suggests how
even the most commonplace commodities like these closures could be seen as
having "racial" meaning that differed between White and Black
consumers.

During excavations at 800 Camp Street in
June, 2000 we found several more bottles from the Polk Dairy (right,
middle), including one orange drink bottle that even had its seal still
intact (right, bottom).

The well's filling likely occurred near the end of the Covingtons' long tenure at 941 Camp.Several items in the fill provide interesting insights into
the everyday life and social aspirations of African-Americans in early
twentieth-century Indianapolis. Some of the artifacts are typical of the
things we would expect to find in most Indianapolis households. For
instance, the well included a quite stylish soap tin boldly emblazoned in
deco-style script, andIUPUI student Christine Hingle
analyzed the well's buttons and identified several that would have been the
height of 1920's fashions. Shoe parts, clothing snaps, hooks and eyes, and
zipper pulls were among the handful of clothing parts retrieved from the
well. These are all things that we likely would see in many
near-Westside homes, but they clearly show us that African-American households
were quite aware of current styles and immersed in consumer culture, even if they
were not conceded full consumer rights.

The well
contained one deteriorated souvenir coin that provides an interesting
suggestion of the Covingtons' vision of race, nationalism, and consumer
citizenship. In 1893, the nineteenth century's last World's Fair was
held in Chicago. The World's Columbian Exposition was a
landmark showcase of American ingenuity and national pride 400 years after
Columbus' colonization of the New World. The
Exposition was a stunning display of American architecture, industrial
might, and worldwide social and material influence, and it played host to
27 million visitors. These visitors were led by the
country's most celebrated Americans, including African-American notables
like Frederick Douglass, Booker T. Washington, Paul Laurence Dunbar,
George Washington Carver, and Nancy Green, who appeared at the fair as
"Aunt Jemima" and delivered one of America's most
enduring--albeit utterly racist--advertising symbols.

Click on the
thumbnail above for larger image.

Alongside the Exposition's celebrities were thousands of
African Americans who came as visitors, participants, and laborers. Like
the many Whites, European Americans, and other immigrant Americans who attended
the Exposition, these African Americans were celebrating their citizenship, and
for African Americans this was a profoundly significant moment: less
than three decades removed from slavery, African Americans had ostensibly
secured the role of citizens, but their celebration was inevitably complicated
by the rising tide of Jim Crow racism, racist voting regulations sweeping the
country, recurrent anti-Black violence, racist labor and business obstacles,
widespread African-American disappointment with partisan politics, and systemic
barriers that attempted to neutralize the privileges of Black citizenship.
An 1893 pamphlet titled The Reason Why the Colored American Is Not in The
World's Columbian Exposition lamented racist labor inequities at the Fair
and the domination of White planners, urging African Americans to boycott the
extravaganza. Nevertheless, the Exposition played host to many African
Americans and included a series of articulate and politicized African-American
events. The eight day Congress on Africa, for instance, gathered African
and African-American intellectuals to critically probe the historical and
contemporary condition of African diaspora and continental Africans alike. As
part of the Exposition, a conference on African-American education was held at Chicago's Art Palace, and
it drew many of the nation's most prominent thinkers. The Indianapolis
Freeman's review of the educational conference included a headline that boasted "Art Palace Crowded with the Intellectual
Elite of the Race." Haytian Day focused on the sociocultural
complexity of the African diaspora, bringing together exhibits and lectures on
Caribbean and South American Black cultures, and Africans such as the Fon from
Dahomey presented facets of African culture that were revelations to many
African Americans who were increasingly interested in their cultural and
historical roots. Certainly many African Americans were
guardedly optimistic about the
possibilities of citizenship, even though its late-nineteenth-century face was
overwhelmingly dedicated to reproducing White racial privilege. To find
out more about the African-American experience of the Exposition, visit
Christopher Robert Reed's insightful analysis by clicking on the Mines and
Mining Building below.

Visitors
to the Exposition could purchase a wide range of trinkets to
memorialize their visit. Among these souvenirs was a coin sold by an
exhibitor in the Mines and Mining Building. The Mines and Mining Building
was a Beaux Arts style structure that had as its centerpiece a Statue of Liberty
made of salt. When the 941 Camp Street well was filled in the 1930s, this
coin was discarded into the fill. We can only speculate how it may have
reached the near-Westside: a family member or relative may have been a
visitor, the Covingtons may have been presented it as a gift from a friend or
relative, or they may have purchased it from somebody in Indianapolis.
What is significant is not necessarily how it got to Camp Street but what
it likely meant to an African American. Early twentieth-century African
Americans were clearly dedicated to citizenship, even though they understood its
realities differed from its possibilities: vast numbers of African
Americans served in World War I, for instance, and White commentators expressed
surprise at the rapid rate of African-American Liberty Bond purchases. It
seems significant that this modest coin was curated for about 40 years: for
whatever reason, somebody considered this item symbolically significant enough
to keep it far longer than almost any other object in the well's fill. The
souvenir coin provides a hint of how something like a trip to the Columbian
Exposition, which White Americans likely considered commonplace, held special
significance to the people of color who walked through its exhibitions. In
an interesting parallel, archaeologist Leslie Stewart-Abernathy excavated a
Columbian Exposition coin from a White family's cabin in the Arkansas Ozarks;
this suggests how folks often considered "outside" American society
because of regional culture, economics, or racism viewed the Exposition and such
events quite differently than bourgeois Whites.

A
number of different firms ran inter-urban rail through Indianapolis until
about World War II. A "zone check" token from one of these rail services was
discarded into the Camp Street well. The coin is embossed "ZONE
CHECK" with the digit "4" on one side and the digit
"4" and the words "INDIANA RAILROAD/DIVISION OF [?]ESSON"--the
final word on the second side is unclear. The Indiana Railroad's first
joint timetable was issued September 28, 1930, and the system included
routes to Richmond, Brazil, Muncie, and Marion. Rail service ended
on January 18, 1941, when the Indiana Railroad switched to bus service.June 2000: Several people emailed that the
digit four was used to indicate the number of stops the token's holder
could go on the interurban.

Click on the two thumbnails
to the left for a
detailed picture of the token. Do you know how this was used, or when
it was in use? Email me at paulmull@iupui.edu
and let us know, and we'll post your answers.

Judging from the small ceramic assemblage of about 150
sherds, the Covingtons apparently set their table with plates that included a
wide range of decorative preparations and motifs. No matching vessels with
the same motifs were identified, and the ceramics include wares and styles that
were in vogue in the teens and twenties as well as a handful of
late-nineteenth-century vessels; consequently, the household likely had some
relatively stylish sets as well as some older wares. This suggests that
some ceramics were purchased new and others were either held for a long period
of time or perhaps given to the Covingtons from friends and family. The
well's household refuse includes several hundred bones that are dominated by
mass-marketed cattle and include relatively little poultry. The absence of
Mason-style preserving jars and virtually no stoneware crock fragments suggests
that the Covingtons apparently did not do much home food preservation;
nevertheless, these are relatively modest artifact quantities that do not
provide a particularly clear picture of the household's foodways.

The bird to the left is posed beside a dime, reflecting how
small it is. A visitor to the page wrote to say that his grandmother
had a small coin purse with an identical decoration. A number of foil milk bottle seals (right) were
recovered from the well, all from Polk's. (Click on either image for a
larger picture).

Obviously this analysis of the well assemblage only
provides a hint of the insights archaeology can provide into everyday
African-American life. Yet as we develop this analysis and add to it oral
history, archaeology from other sites, and new historical evidence, we can begin
to piece together an interesting picture of life in the near-Westside.